“We have,” she said, “a high level of success. Despite what you’re obviously thinking about us. Despite our not knowing Kimmo was murdered. We did what we were meant to do when he failed to show up.”

“As you said,” Lynley agreed. “And what do you do about the others?”

“The others?”

“Does everyone come to you via Youth Offenders?”

“Not at all. Most of them come because they’ve heard about us in another way entirely. Through church or school, through someone already involved in the programme. If they stay, it’s because they begin to trust us and they start to believe in themselves.”

“What happens with those who don’t?” Havers asked.

“Don’t what?”

“Start to believe in themselves?”

“Obviously, this programme doesn’t work for them all. How can it? We’re up against everything in their backgrounds, from abuse to xenophobia. Sometimes, a kid can’t cope here any better than he can cope anywhere else. So he dips in and then out and that’s how it is. We don’t force anyone to stay who isn’t required to by a court order. As for the rest, as long as they obey the rules, we don’t force them to leave either. They can be here for years, if they like.”

“And are they?”

“Occasionally, yes.”

“Like who?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

“Ulrike?” It was Jack Veness. He’d come to the doorway of Ulrike’s office, quiet as the fog. “Phone. I tried to tell him you were busy, but he wasn’t having it. Sorry. What d’you want me…?” He raised his shoulders as a way of completing the question.

“Who is it, then?”

“Reverend Savidge. He’s in a state. Says Sean Lavery’s gone missing. Says he didn’t turn up at home last night when he was due back from the computer course. Should I-”

“No!” Ulrike said. “Put him through, Jack.”

Jack left her office. She closed her fingers into a fist. She didn’t look up as she waited for the phone to ring.

“There was another body this morning, Ms. Ellis,” Lynley said.

“Then I’ll put him on the speakerphone,” she replied. “Please God this has nothing to do with us.” While she waited for the phone call to ring through, she told them that the caller was the foster parent of one of the boys in their programme: He was called Sean Lavery, and he was black. She looked at Lynley, the question hanging unasked between them. He merely nodded, confirming her unspoken fears about the body found that morning in the Shand Street tunnel.

When the phone rang, Ulrike punched the button for the speaker. Reverend Savidge’s voice came through, deep and anxious. Where was Sean? he wanted to know. Why hadn’t Sean returned from Colossus last night?

Ulrike told him what little she knew. As far as she understood, Reverend Savidge’s foster son Sean Lavery had been at Colossus as usual on the previous day and had left as usual on his regular bus. She’d heard nothing contrary to that from his computer instructor, and his instructor hadn’t reported him as absent, which he definitely would have done because Sean had come to them via a social worker, and Colossus always kept in touch.

Where the hell was he, then? Reverend Savidge demanded. There were boys going missing all over London. Was Ulrike Ellis aware of that? Or did it not count to her if the boy in question happened to be black?

Ulrike assured him that she’d speak with the computer instructor the first chance she had but in the meantime…Had Reverend Savidge phoned round to see if Sean had perhaps gone home with a friend? Or gone to his dad’s? Or gone to see his mum? She was still in Holloway, wasn’t she, which wasn’t a particularly difficult trip for a boy Sean’s age to make. Sometimes boys do just go off for a bit, she’d said to Savidge.

He said, “Not this boy, madam,” and he rang off abruptly.

Ulrike said, “Oh Lord,” and Lynley knew it was a prayer.

He said one himself. Reverend Savidge’s next call, Lynley reckoned, was going to be to his local police.

ONLY ONE OF THE two detectives left the building after the phone call from Reverend Savidge. The other-the unattractive woman with the chipped front teeth and the ridiculous red high-top trainers-remained behind. The man, Detective Superintendent Lynley, was going to head up to South Hampstead to talk to Sean Lavery’s foster father. His subordinate, Detective Constable Barbara Havers, was going to hang round as long as it was necessary to have a word with Griffin Strong. Ulrike Ellis processed all this in a matter of seconds once the cops had finished with her: Lynley asked for Bram Savidge’s address; Havers asked could she have a wander round the premises, the better to manage a word here and there.

Ulrike knew she could hardly say no. Things were bad enough without her being anything less than cooperative. So she agreed to the constable’s request. For no matter what had happened beyond the walls of this place, Colossus and what Colossus represented were larger than the life of one boy or a dozen boys.

But even as she reassured herself that Colossus would emerge unscathed from this setback, Ulrike worried about Griff. He should have shown up at least two hours ago, no matter what she’d told the cops about the putative delivery of T-shirts and sweatshirts. The fact that he hadn’t…

There was nothing to do but phone him on his mobile and warn him what to expect when he arrived. She wouldn’t be blatant about it, however. She didn’t trust the security of mobile phones. Instead she would tell him to meet her at the Charlie Chaplin pub. Or in the shopping centre up on the corner. Or at one of the market stalls just outside. Or even in the subway that led to the underground station because what did it matter when what was important was simply that they meet so she could warn him…Of what? she asked herself. And why?

Her chest was hurting. It had been hurting for days, but it had suddenly become worse. Did one have heart attacks at thirty years old? When she’d squatted in front of the filing drawer, she’d experienced a combination of light-headedness and increased chest pain that nearly overcame her. She’d thought she would swoon. God. Swoon. Where had that word come from?

Ulrike told herself to stop it. She picked up the phone and dialed for an outside line. When she had it, she tapped in the number of Griff Strong’s mobile. She’d interrupt him doing whatever he was doing, but that couldn’t be helped.

Griff said, “Yes?,” on the other end. He sounded impatient, and what was that about? He worked at Colossus. She was his boss. Deal with it, Griff.

She said, “Where are you?”

He said, “Ulrike…” in a voice whose tone was a message in itself.

But the fact he’d used her name told her he was in a place of safety. She said, “The police have been. I can’t say more. We need to meet before you get here.”

“Police?” His previous impatience was gone. Ulrike could hear the fear that replaced it. She herself felt a corresponding frisson.

She said, “Two detectives. One of them is still in the building. She’s waiting for you.”

“For me? Shall I-”

“No. You must come in. If you don’t…Look, let’s not have this conversation on a mobile. How soon can you meet at…say, at Charlie Chaplin?” And then because it was more than reasonable, “Where are you?,” so she could determine how long it would take him to get there.

Even the thought of the police at Colossus didn’t put Griffin off his stride, however. He said, “Fifteen minutes.”

Not at home, then. But she’d deduced that much when he’d said her name. She knew she wouldn’t get anything more from him.

“Charlie Chaplin, then,” she said. “Fifteen minutes.” She rang off.

What remained was the waiting. That and wondering what the constable was doing as she had her ostensible look round the premises. Ulrike had determined in a flash that it benefitted Colossus for the DC to have this look unattended. Allowing her to wander freely sent a message about Colossus having nothing to hide.